Recruit - Jonathan Brazee (highly illogical behavior .txt) 📗

Chapter 8

“Doggie, check for the DIs,” Hamilton Ceres, the recruit squad leader for First said.  Hamilton had gathered Doggie and the other three squad leaders, the platoon guide, the whiskey locker recruit, and the scribe for an impromptu meeting.  Doggie was the “house mouse,” the recruit tasked with cleaning the DIs’ office, so if he checked and a DI was still there, it should rouse no suspicion.

The seven of them, the entirety of the recruit leadership in the platoon, waited silently in the head until Doggie came back with news that the DIs were gone.  They could get down to business.  Ryck already had a good idea about what Hamilton wanted to tell them.  Earlier in the day, Seth MacPruit, a recruit in First, had told Hamilton to fuck off, reminding the squad leader that Hamilton was a recruit just like the rest of them, and that he had no real authority over him.  Technically, that was true.  The recruit squad leaders were only acting squad leaders.  All authority was in the hands of the DIs.  If Hamilton was having a problem with Seth, then he could go to the DI and report the other recruit, but that would show a lack of leadership capability, and Hamilton could be stripped of his position right then and there.

Seth knew that.  Seth also knew that Hamilton couldn’t force him to comply with any order.  Seth was a Combined Martial Arts phenom, actually having fought in the Ultimate Warrior Tournament, winning his weight class at the planetary level before bowing out.  He proclaimed this loudly and often from their first training day, and many of the other recruits, Ryck included, thought he was spewing so much BS.  But in the Marine Corps Martial Art class four days before, he’d taken on the instructor, a MCMA black belt, and handily beat him.  Seth was the real deal.

Seth was also an asshole.  Now that the others knew what he was capable of in a fight, he’d become even more arrogant and unruly.  Telling Hamilton to fuck off was the final straw.

“So, I know you all know why I’ve called you here.  The question is what do we do about it,” Hamilton told the group, keeping his voice low. 

The DIs might not be in their office, but they had a habit of turning up anywhere at any time.  This meeting, after lights out, was against the rules, and recruits who broke the rules almost always wished they hadn’t after they’d been caught.

“Not much of a choice, as I see it,” John McGruder said without much emotion.  “We can’t let anyone flaunt our authority.”

“I hear you, Mac, but we really don’t have any authority,” Shaymall Cammille, the platoon guide said. 

The guide was the top recruit billet, naturally assigned to the recruit who the DIs thought was the strongest.  That opinion affected the rest of the recruits, and he was unconsciously considered the first among equals by the others.

“Bullshit, Shay-man.  The Senior gave me this position, and that’s all the perking authority I fucking need.  Ham, you need to call this perking arsehole out.  Now,” Mac said.

Hamilton visibly blanched before stammering out, “I can do it, I mean I can call him out, but shit on me, you saw him with that DI.  He flattened the guy.  A MCMA black belt!  I’d only last an ant’s heartbeat.”

Mac rolled his eyes, but Ryck answered for him, “Not just you, Hamilton.  You call him out, but all of us take care of him.  You bring him in here, and we’ll be waiting.”

The thought had obviously never occurred to Hamilton, and he seemed to think it over for a moment before asking, “But what does that say about me?  That I can’t handle my own problems?  And is it fair, eight against one?”

“Stick it, Ham,” Mac told him.  “All’s fair in perking love and war.  We love that arsehole as a fellow Marine recruit, as a platoon mate, but this is war when he thinks he’s too perking special to follow the rules.  And when he tells you to fuck off, he’s telling all of us to fuck off.  So all of us need to give him a little ‘extra instruction’ on following orders.  A beasting he’s asking for, and a beasting we’ll give him.”

“You mean a ‘beating?’” Ham asked, obviously confused.

“What?  No.  Don’t you speak Standard?  This is a ‘beating,” he said, mimicking the pounding on a drum.  “This is a ‘beasting’” he added, pounding one fist into his opposite open palm.

Hamilton took in Mac’s meaning before looking at each of the others in turn.

“Do you all agree with that?”

Each one of them nodded, even if Doggie’s nod was late and without enthusiasm.

“And none of you think I’m wimping out?” Hamilton asked.

Each head shook in a “no.” 

“OK, then.  So I guess it’s now or never.  Let me go get him and bring him back here,” he said as he left the showers and made his way into the darkened squadbay.

The seven recruits moved closer to the entrance to the showers so they wouldn’t be seen when Hamilton and Seth walked up. 

“Shit, shit, shit . . .” Doggie whispered to himself, fear evident in his voice to those who overheard him.

Ryck sympathized, but he was not going to voice that.  Even with eight of them, Seth was a grubbing monster, and there could be some serious ass-kicking going on—not all of it on Seth.  He swung his arms back and forth, trying to get ready, only stopping when he heard murmuring as the two recruits approached.

“I gotta give you props.  I never thought you had the balls to call me out.  It ain’t gonna make any difference ‘cause I’m still gonna to take you apart, but I gotta respect your effort,” Seth said as they walked into the showers.

He stopped dead as the seven recruits waiting moved to surround him.  Hamilton stepped back to join the circle of recruits.

“Hey, what’s this bullshit?  It’s jus’ me an’ fuckhead here.  This is between me an’ him,” Seth protested.

“Well, you see, Mac-Pisshead, it’s like this.  When a chav like you goes and disrespects one of us, you disrespect all of us.  So we all need to sort of, you know, show you the error of your ways.”

Seth stood there looking at them, hands on his hips.

“What a bunch of fucking marigolds.  My great-granny’s got more balls than you, an’ she’s been dead for two years,” he said with a sneer on his face.  “I guess I’ll have to show you the fucking error of your ways.  You don’t mess with me!  Which one of you pussies is first?” he asked, rising up on the balls of his feet, fists raised.

Mac rushed him, head down, arms outstretched.  Seth’s foot caught him on the chin, folding him in a heap on the tile deck.  Seth somehow kept his foot going, bringing it to his right, connecting with the side of Du Boc’s neck, sending him to his knees.  At that moment, Ryck’s fist connected with the back of Seth’s neck, right below the skull.  Seth staggered forward, clearly stunned, and Shaymall’s fist came up in a picture perfect-uppercut, catching Seth on the chin.  He went down hard, head bouncing off the tile.  Despite Seth being down and out, several more punches and kicks were thrown at his unresponsive body, the last by Du after the recruit squad leader got back up to his feet.

Ryck’s heart was pounding.  It had all happened so quickly.  His fist hurt, but the adrenaline kept most of the pain at bay.  He had to concentrate on calming down.